A familiar feature in the streets and public places of Athens
was the bust of Hermes, surmounting a quadrangular stone pillar. Many
hundreds of these pillars, which were called Hermae, were scattered
about over the whole city, standing before the doors of houses and
temples, at cross-ways and places of public resort. Wherever he went,
whatever he did, the Athenian felt himself to be in the presence of
this genial and friendly power, who attended him, with more than human
sympathy, in all his ways.
If such were the feelings of the Athenians towards their favourite
deity, what must have been their horror when they awoke one morning to
find that all the busts of Hermes, with one or two exceptions, were
shattered and mutilated beyond all recognition. The whole population
was thunderstruck, and wild rumours ran from mouth to mouth concerning
the perpetrators and the motive of this shocking outrage. It was
evident that many hands must have been employed on the work of
destruction, and those who had so foully insulted the most hallowed
affections of their fellow-citizens were believed to be capable of any
enormity. It was loudly asserted that a black conspiracy was hatching
against the liberties of the people, and that the worst days of the
tyranny were about to be revived.
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